If you missed Mr. Gorey's speech on Friday....

Mr. Gorey addressed the graduating class of 2010 on Friday morning during class day. We think what he said was important and want to share it with you.

"I want to thank Brittany and Ntina for asking me to speak today; I want to thank Ms. Patrick for fitting me into the program; I want to thank the class of 2010 for your kindness; kindness still matters.

What I’ve written to share with you is part poem, part essay, part tall tale, part jeremiad—let’s just say it defies genre. I’m calling the piece, “Wisdom is a Long Song”:

Given my day job, I have to believe that language still matters. I’m always looking for wise words that help me understand what it is to be alive. If I owned one, I could wallpaper a mansion with the mottoes, maxims, and mantras I’ve come across that say something true about being human. They might be from a song on the radio by a band such as Men Without Hats reminding me that it’s, safe to dance. You know that one-- You can dance if you want to—you don’t want me to continue. They might be from my Mother who kept repeating throughout my adolescence, “patience is a virtue.” They might be from someone called Shakespeare; in Shakespeare’s play Hamlet, Polonius says to his son “To thine own self be true”; this advice has been lifted out of context and used to inspire people to pursue their individuality and dreams for most of the 400 years since the play was staged, but if we actually read the play closely, we realize that Polonius is a scheming, hypocritical tool of a corrupt, murderous king. All these pithy sayings are clever and seemingly clear, but they don’t tell the whole truth. So, what I’ve concluded is that wisdom doesn’t fit on a bumper sticker. Instead, wisdom is a long song, the various refrains of which, I can only, occasionally, tune in. But I don’t think that I’m alone in my quest.

True story:  Most of you don’t know that someone recently wrote on the top floor mens’ room wall, “That government is best which governs least.” That’s a word-perfect transcription from Henry David Thoreau’s essay “Civil Disobedience”; now, because I am the teacher who drags his students through a few pages of Thoreau’s writing, I felt a weird connection to that inscription on the wall. In fact, I was flabberghasted. (How’s that for onomatopoeia?) The specific nature of the student’s protest is unclear, but this could be a first in the annals of BRHS bathroom graffiti. Despite the power of those seven words, they don’t tell us everything we need to know about the US government. You really have to read the rest of his essay to get his big idea, which is, if you’re a true citizen, you will walk the walk to make your government and your society better. That’s what I mean about wisdom not fitting on a bumper sticker. Thoreau died before the Civil War, but his words help me understand where we are today in America better than most.

Following Thoreau’s trail, I too went to the Maine woods, to “confront the essential facts of life”; Why did I do this? Well, I found myself in a confined space, where one person was dialing up the volume of American Idol because she couldn’t hear above the roar of another person’s Madden 2010, and I began to experience a psychic imperative to escape. So I went to the woods. Life in the woods is raw, unmediated, and unscripted: When you hear an owl hooting in a movie, you might be inclined to yawn, but when you wake up 50 miles from the nearest TV at 2 AM because on a limb above your tent there’s an owl booming its hoots to beat the band, you will take notice. Unlike Thoreau, I left the woods after two days, because I remembered I’d forgotten to pay our TV, Internet, and cell phone bills. And if the TV screen turns to snow at my house, and people can’t connect to Facebook, the mutiny will be swift, and savage.

When I left the woods, I had not slept well and had a headache because of that owl. I went to buy some Ibuprofen, and the Rite Aid Cashier asked me without irony, “Would you like to play the game of life?” For a moment, I considered launching into a tirade, railing against the deleterious, cultural effects of big box chain stores, otherwise known as the mauling of America (that’s M-A-U-L-I-N-G). Instead, I said, “no, thank you.” And as I walked through the sliding, electronic doors, I said sotto voce, “choose your battles.”

It’s easy to get worked up over relatively unimportant things. For example, I’m a huge fan of democracy, but something’s awry with ours, when the people decide that Lee DeWyze is a better singer than Crystal Bowersox.

Choose your battles. So what is a battle worth fighting?

I told this story to a class once;
We were probably discussing some
Lighthearted tale of moral ambiguity such as
Heart of Darkness:
As a father, I sat still, in a swing,
In a Paris playground;
I watched a three-year old Alex
Trying to play the game of life in a French sandbox. (In case you’re wondering there’s nothing special about a French sandbox.) And in that hour,
I saw the future movers and shakers
Who would suppress their compassion
In order to satisfy shareholders.
I saw the schemers who would cajole
The apple from the gullible.
I saw the self righteous
Accost the apathetic, and
The ambitious with the big sticks
Lord over the dreamy and the vulnerable.
In short, I saw injustice unchecked, chalked up as child’s play.

So, here are some words I try to live by:

Politicians decide your future, so inform yourself.

Vote, but don’t vote for somebody just because someone else is, or because of some radio soundbyte or advertisement you saw on TV.

If you see an injustice, do something.
If you hear something that doesn’t quite sound like the truth,
Speak up.

Don’t assume
That others in the room
Will.

This time,
I’m going to make it rhyme:

Don’t be a shill
For any bill
You don’t believe in.


And finally, I agree with the copywriter for LG, Life’s Good, BUT IT’S ALSO POSSIBLE, TO BECOME COMFORTABLE, WITH THE UNACCEPTABLE.

Thank you."